


Just This Once

by sarahgene12



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: Belts, Bruises, Dom/sub, Handcuffs, Humiliation, M/M, Secret Relationship, Spreader Bars, work relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 11:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16680724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahgene12/pseuds/sarahgene12
Summary: Matthew Lawson might seem like the kind of man who likes to be in control, but Charlie does not seem like the kind of man who enjoys relinquishing it so completely. (And poor Lucien somehow gets caught in the middle)





	Just This Once

“What are those?”  
Charlie was literally in a terrible position to be asking questions, but his insides squirmed at the sight of a long steel truncheon, with two loops of what looked like leather on either end.  
“And do we always have to do this in the morgue? I’m freezing.”  
He did this on purpose, trying to get a rise. It’d been months since their last meeting and he had been getting desperate.  
The tall figure in the shadows behind him moved to one side, to Charlie’s left, holding the menacing looking metal pole in both hands. Then he moved to the right, smacking the cold steel against the palm of the opposite hand.  
Charlie had his hips pressed against the edge of the examining table, figuring he’d be ordered to bend over it eventually but not wanting to do so unless he was told. This part didn’t usually take this long.  
“I’ll just go then, shall I? If you’re not going to do anything—” He feigned a quick move to his left, and that did it; two hands grabbed his shoulders as he moved, as if to escape, and forced him, threw him, back down against the table. One hand moved to his back, pressing his belly flat against the cold steel of the table. Charlie couldn’t help but grin, just a little.  
“Finally, I was beginning to think you’d lost your nerve.”  
He had been waiting for it, and it came: a hard thwack! across the backs of his thighs, high up, with what felt like a belt. Even through the cloth of his trousers it stung tremendously, and his secret grin grew into a wide smile.  
“Take off your trousers.”  
It was the first time Lawson had spoken since they’d arrived.  
Charlie had some difficulty pulling the tongue of his own belt free from its loop, his hands were shaking so much. But he did it, letting his uniform trousers fall to his ankles. There was a pause, and he felt the chilled air waft over his new welts, now exposed.  
“Think you’re funny, do you? Not wearing any pants. Disgusting.”  
Charlie traced Lawson’s movements by the subtle sound of his footsteps, circling slowly round to the other side of the table. A quiet metallic chink told him what was coming next, and he wriggled happily, hands outstretched across the cold surface.  
“Mm, eager, aren’t you? Think because I’ve made you wait that you deserve something special?”  
Charlie answered by way of crossing his wrists. Lawson obliged by locking one, then the other, in his own pair of handcuffs. When Charlie raised his head ever so slightly, he saw that the foot of chain between them was looped around the faucet, giving him very little room to move his hands and trapping him there.  
Lawson walked back around behind him.  
“Well you’re in luck. Turns out I have brought you something new, something I think you’re really going to enjoy. Ankles apart.”  
Charlie did as he was told, barely resisting the urge to press himself harder against the edge of the table. He could feel himself growing aroused already, and Lawson had barely touched him.  
“Wider.”  
For a moment, nothing. Then, he felt Lawson’s fingers moving deftly around his ankles, first one then the other; the light rasp of cloth, the quiet jangle of more chains. He dared to try and look over his shoulder; Lawson was standing again, just behind him, steely blue eyes flashing brighter than usual.  
He met Charlie’s eye, at the same time raking his fingers over the back of Charlie’s naked thigh, his fingernails long and sharp enough to draw a sigh from Charlie’s lips.  
“Try and close your legs.”  
He did and found he couldn’t, and suddenly understood what the long metal bar was for.  
“See, you’re all mine now. I can do whatever I want to you.”  
Now Charlie did roll his hips, pressing against the unforgiving metal table and moaning, feeling a dull ache in the small of his back from the stretching of his arms and legs.  
“Do it then, go on.”  
This earned him another hard slap across the backs of his thighs, just under the cleft of his ass, and now he wanted to put on a show, to be punished, and he moaned again, louder this time, breathing clouds of condensation into the shiny steel surface of the table.  
Charlie spread his legs as widely as the bar allowed, rolling his hips backwards towards Lawson’s hand, wanting, reaching.  
“You’re going to make a mess, aren’t you? Mmm.”  
This was new, this was a first: Lawson’s hands flew to Charlie’s shoulders, fingers spread, pressing gently. He ran his hands down over Charlie’s back, over his ass, down his thighs; his fingers tickled the backs of Charlie’s knees then skipped and jumped back upwards, kneading the soft, willing flesh of his ass, drawing another moan from the sergeant.  
Charlie could hear Lawson breathing heavily, evenly but harder than usual, and as those narrow-fingered hands played over his skin he heard him curse softly. That had also never happened before.  
Because this was a day for trying new things, Charlie took a deep breath and said, “Why don’t you jerk me off, chief?”  
A sharp intake of breath. The hand that had been slowly, almost lovingly caressing his ass was withdrawn.  
A moment later, Charlie sensed Lawson moving away, and for a terrible moment he thought he was going to be left there, that he’d gone one step too far and that his boss was going to leave him there until morning, a little surprise for Dr. Harvey.  
But then, that hand that had a moment ago been so gentle smacked him, hard. Charlie gave a sharp cry of surprise, and it echoed off the cold, clean walls of the morgue. Another smack, and he gasped, as a hand lingered and worked the sting into his skin, rubbing furiously as if removing a stain. He leaned back into the touch, fully erect now and his mind reeling between the icy bite of the table’s edge against his cock and the hot pressure of each slap.  
Then another surprise, as Lawson seemed to fall against him, the buttons of his uniform pressing into Charlie’s back, the rough fabric of his trousers rasping against Charlie’s bare skin. The sergeant could feel Lawson’s own arousal against the back of his thigh; he pressed back against it, rolled his hips, panting openly now as Lawson’s hot breath poured onto the back of his neck.  
“Please, oh god, Matthew please!”  
Something of his plea was answered; somehow, Lawson got his hand between Charlie’s rolling hips and the table, and wrapped his hand around the base of Charlie’s cock.  
“Is this what you want?” Lawson hissed, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing. He was still pressed on top of Charlie, less in control than he probably wanted to be, pressing himself against Charlie’s ass, working himself into the same level of urgency.  
“Yes! Ah, Christ, yes! Oh, please!” Charlie rocked his hips in rhythm with Lawson’s sliding hand, feeling the bite of the handcuffs around his wrists, the unrelenting pull of what he assumed was leather around his ankles.  
“If you’re a good boy,” Lawson hissed, now fully rubbing himself against Charlie’s thigh— “maybe next time I’ll actually fuck you.”  
Charlie was nearly weeping. “Fuck me now, please! I’ll—”  
Lawson smacked him again, hard, with his free hand. Charlie thrust himself hard into the hand squeezing his cock, and felt himself release.  
His legs shook, and he cried out, the sound echoing off the walls.  
Instead of pulling away immediately, like he usually did, Lawson stayed for a moment, moving both hands to Charlie’s hips, holding him tight as he rode out the full power of his orgasm, keeping him pressed hard against the edge of the table, his breath hot against Charlie’s ear. He cursed again as Charlie came down, and rubbed gentle circles into the sergeant’s stomach.  
“Good boy. Good, good boy. There now, that was worth the wait, wasn’t it?” He cooed.  
Charlie could only nod, his forehead pressed against the flat cool expense of the autopsy table.  
*******  
“Ah, Charlie! There you are!”  
Charlie looked up from the pile of papers on his desk. Dr. Blake had entered the station, sauntering in with his usual nonchalance and bounce in his step.  
“Morning, Blake. Boss call you in?”  
Lucien spared a cursory glance in Lawson’s direction.  
“Yes, yes he did. As a matter of fact, he asked me to examine you, if that’s alright.”  
Charlie felt the blood drain from his face. “E-examine me? Why? You’re not my usual GP. I’m not sick.”  
Here Blake looked to Lawson, who, before raising his eyes to the doctor, met Charlie’s gaze, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
“Matthew?”  
Lawson stood up slowly, and walked around his desk. He kept his focus strictly on Lucien.  
“That very well may be, Sergeant, but I’ve noticed you’ve been favoring your lower back, and as I can’t seem to get a word out of anyone else as to what might be the matter, I decided to have the good doctor here have a look at you. Maybe have him tell me what it is exactly wrong with you.”  
Blake bought it, and in the few seconds wherein which he turned to usher Charlie to a more private room, Lawson caught his sergeant’s eye again, and held it. His eyes gleamed, bright and sparkling with what Charlie feared might be anticipation. When he fell into step behind the doctor, Lucien stopped and turned back, looking surprised.  
“Are you coming along, Lawson?”  
Lawson shrugged. “If that’s alright.”  
“Well it’s highly unusual, but if Charlie doesn’t mind, I certainly don’t. Charlie?”  
Charlie had no choice but to nod. He walked behind Lawson, third in the line, eyeing the handcuffs hooked into the chief superintendent’s belt loop and wondering just how thorough Blake had been ordered to be.  
*****  
He couldn’t have planned it more perfectly.  
It was deemed more appropriate for the doctor to conduct his examination in the morgue, where there weren’t any windows and the doors had proper locks. Once the three men were inside the room, Lawson closed and locked the door behind them, and stood diligently in front of it, clasping his hands in front of himself.  
“Right, now, Charlie, if you would, step out of your uniform for me please and we can get started.”  
Charlie balked, backing himself against the examining table and wincing. “Now doc, is that really necessary? I’m fine, really, you can take my word for it!”  
Seeming at a loss, Lucien turned to Lawson, who only shook his head.  
“No, no, I told you. I need my officers in top condition. And if you won’t offer the information willingly I have to get it some other way. It’s for your own good.”  
He was barely hiding his smile now. It was going to be wide, and toothy, like a shark’s, the smile of someone who had won his favorite game.  
Hands raised in a placating gesture, Blake turned back to Charlie. “I’d do as the boss says, Charlie. You can keep your jockies on but I’ll need everything else on the table, please.”  
Slowly, Charlie did as the doctor asked. He kicked off his shoes. Pulled his socks off one at a time.  
The top layers were easy; he could stall for quite a while, shrugging out of his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt.  
It became more of an effort to do as the doctor said when it came time to remove his shirt and trousers. The leather cuffs and spreader bar hadn’t left any mark on him as far as he had been able to tell, looking himself over in the mirror that morning, but the handcuffs, and the belt—  
Blake was patient, courteous enough to set about unpacking his various instruments while Charlie disrobed.  
Lawson watched. He lurked in the corner, almost in shadow, like he had been the previous night, and his eyes never left Charlie, following the sergeant’s fingers down each button of his shirt, and finally—the penultimate moment—when Charlie pulled his undershirt over his head, and undid his belt.  
Charlie managed to collect both these pieces with the others, folding them neatly and piling them together, trying to do so without turning his back on the doctor.  
The moment Blake turned back to him, he gasped. He reached out and took Charlie’s left arm in both his hands, cradling it gently.  
“Goodness me, Charlie, what are these? You’ve bruised both your wrists, and look, see here, where the skin is broken! How on earth did you manage that?”  
“I—I honestly don’t know, Doc,” Charlie said in a small voice.  
“How could you possibly--- and my goodness, you’ve done it round your ankles, as well! Why, it looks as if you’ve been bound!”  
Charlie’s mind reeled, reaching, searching, for any possible excuse, anything besides the truth which might satisfy the doctor’s curiosity.  
“Check his back, Blake. It’s his back that’s been bothering him,” offered Lawson, now standing a bit closer.  
Here, Charlie tried to refuse. “Oh, no, Doc, that’s fine, really, I think you’ve probably---  
“Come now, Charlie, there’s obviously something going on here. It’s alright, whatever it is, you’re in good hands.”  
Lucien smiled kindly, laying a gentle hand on Charlie’s shoulder.  
Slowly, Charlie turned around, eyes squeezed shut. He thought his pants would cover most of the damage, and for a moment thought they had—then he heard Lucien’s quiet gasp.  
“Bloody hell, Charlie! What—”  
Without warning, Lucien pressed his fingertips to the welts on the back of Charlie’s thigh. Charlie yelped, and stumbled away from the touch, bracing himself against the table, feeling the crossed sensations of pain and a sharp jolt of pleasure; he wanted both to leap away from Lucien, to cover his wounds, and to have someone press on them again.  
For a long time, there was silence in the low, cold, dimly lit room. Charlie didn’t dare look up or turn around, couldn’t bear to imagine what the doctor must be thinking.  
“Well, Blake?”  
Charlie didn’t have to see Lawson to know he was barely concealing a smile; over the last few months he’d become very well versed in Matthew’s verbal cues, the nuances in his voice, more than he ever had just as his sergeant.  
For the first time in Charlie’s memory, Lucien seemed unable to speak. Charlie turned back around, carefully leaning back against the table. The cold steel felt absolutely wonderful on his inflamed skin.  
The doctor cleared his throat. “Well, I can say with certainty that none of these injuries are serious, that they shouldn’t prevent Sergeant Davis from performing his duties.”  
Now Lucien looked at him directly, and Charlie could feel heat rising in his skin, from the back of his neck to his cheeks. He didn’t meet the doctor’s eyes, looked a little to the left, at the tip of his ear.  
“Is that all, Doc?” he asked, his voice as steady as he could make it.  
“Yes, I’m satisfied if you are, superintendent?”  
Lawson nodded, finally baring his teeth in a grin which suggested that Charlie would be served up on a silver platter the moment the doctor left the room.  
“I think I can take your word for it, Blake. Thanks.” And to Charlie: “Get dressed and meet me upstairs.”  
His eyes wouldn’t let Charlie avoid them; they were bright and shining, the almost translucent color of glaciers, the pupils wide.  
But he met them, stared straight into them, and said, “Yes, sir.”  
******  
He made it as far as the hallway adjacent to the bullpen when a hand reached out of an open doorway, seized the front of his uniform, and pulled him in.  
‘In’ seemed to be a supply cupboard, and the vague, dim shape near him seemed to be Lawson. All doubt left his mind when long, bony fingers suddenly cupped his ass, and squeezed.  
Lawson leaned in close, curling into Charlie so that his nose nearly brushed the sergeant’s cheek. “He knows now. The doctor. He knows what you did to get those marks, what was done to you. He’ll picture it every time he sees you.”  
A little ashamed he was doing it, Charlie pressed himself towards the shadow shape of the superintendent, letting himself be guided closer by Lawson’s forceful hand. He wriggled, so that one of Lawson’s legs nestled between his.  
Lawson’s fingernails bit at him through the fabric of his trousers, and it hurt and it felt so good, and Charlie rolled his hips once against the taller man’s thigh, searching for a little bit of friction.  
“You want to play again already, hmm? Rutting like an animal, like a dog.” Lawson’s hard, callused fingers pinched him on the word ‘dog’, and Charlie jumped, gasping at the sudden burst of pain.  
But he stayed pressed close to the superintendent, trembling a little, almost far enough out of his own mind that he couldn’t think of how humiliated he’d be if anyone else saw him like this.  
Lawson leaned in closer, breathing hotly into Charlie’s ear, and it sent a wrack of shivers down his spine.  
“I’ll see you in our usual place again soon, my pet. Soon. And if you’re really, very good…..”  
He let his voice trail off, and he retreated, opening and closing the closet door behind him so quickly that Charlie barely perceived it.  
Charlie had to sit in the darkness for another ten minutes before he felt composed enough to follow him out.  
*


End file.
